


Kaleidoscope

by benedick cumberballs (maddie)



Category: Vampires - Fandom
Genre: Blood, Blue Hair, Cuddles, Dead Parents, Fluff, Gay Sex, Hate, ILY, Love, M/M, MILF, Mentions of Sex, Multi, No Smut, Self Harm, Sex, Sex Slave, Suicide, Vampire slave, Vampires, because yolo, but not really, bxb - Freeform, charlie/winter, dilf, fuck my family, hot boys, hot dads, hot mom, maddie - Freeform, mention of rape, nice ass, no smut becuase im a shit wrtiter, stomach touching, triggering, white hair
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-06
Updated: 2014-04-10
Packaged: 2018-01-11 09:51:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 13
Words: 12,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1171669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maddie/pseuds/benedick%20cumberballs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His eyes were fixed on mine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

charlie ^

I rarely looked away from the ice-slicked ground as I proceeded to walk. I had a feeling, a bad feeling, and I just wanted to get to the reliable safety of my house before something bad actually happened. Usually, I really liked being outside, and that is kind of why I am in this situation.

My parents are assholes, so all time spent near them is unwilling. They couldn't care less about me, and I do not care much for them either. I would prefer to be by myself, most likely out of the house—that is what I had been doing. Everything was fine and dandy; I sat on some swings at a park, not too far away from my school... then the sun went down, and it got dark.

I started getting nervous for no reason, looking around constantly, paranoid. There was a little voice inside my head, convinced someone was watching me, but I didn’t see anyone at all. So, I ignored it and began to walk home. Ignoring it didn’t help. The voice got louder, like a mental alarm, but I still didn’t see anyone. Now I am here, about halfway between that park and my house, hectically panicking on the inside but trying to stay as calm as possible.

The streets were completely silent at ten o'clock, so when a very faint noise was made, I heard it clearly. My pace slowed; if anyone was around, following me, that probably was not the best decision. Looking behind me isn't something I am prepared to do just yet, but I stayed attentive.  
I couldn’t identify exactly what that noise was, maybe a couple osseous tree branches scraping together, or arid leaves dragging across the ground—it was too dark to see anything that would convince me otherwise. Whatever the answer, I knew it was something to be concerned about.  
My headway was paused when I finally found enough courage to stop and turn around. “Hello?” My eyes scanned the area and I listened almost desperately for anything, any kind of response. There was no answer. Terrifying scenes from every horror movie I have ever watched invaded my memory, plaguing my thoughts. What always happens when you are alone in the dark? You die, painfully.

I laughed quietly to myself because it was unlikely that I was going to die this second. Unlikely, but not impossible. Facing the general direction of my house again, I took a step and heard it echo. It echoed more than it should have, like someone was stepping in sync with me. I didn’t look back, I kept walking, very quickly.

The wind made strange, distorted noises, and the sky was almost pitch black outside. I hid my gloveless hands in my sleeves and stuffed them into my sweater pockets. I was cold, real cold. It had snowed a lot today and that was weird. It wasn't really unusual weather for the middle of December, but it had been much warmer yesterday—had been for a while, actually—and the temperature change was almost drastic. Winter was here, and it hit harder than anyone expected. It just kind of snuck up behind the town and surprised everyone.

I heard another sound and turned around suddenly, feeling almost provoked. If someone's watching me, they could clearly tell I am a little pissed off now. Not knowing what is causing these unexplained sounds is really frustrating me.  
I did not and could not see anything except my shadow but, perilously, I kept searching. I know there is something out there, I know there is. Might be something I will regret seeing, but some kind of recognition on what it might be is raving my curiosity levels.

I stared into the darkness for what felt like hours until I sighed, gave up and turned around once again.

When I did, I bumped into something, hard. Due to my lack of balance and the very icy road, I slipped and fell backwards, into the cold slush. Looking up, I saw a guy. Well, I couldn’t really see him. With his dark clothes, the poor lighting and the constant snow whipping around in the wind, it was just a blur.


	2. Chapter 2

About an hour and thirty-nine minutes ago—give or take a couple minutes—I was thrown, locked and left in this enclosed area, not being told anything but “Stay quiet.” I did not stay quiet. No, I wasn't quiet at all. I screamed and yelled and completely flipped out, honestly.  
I am not going to stay quiet when I have been kidnapped.  
To my own amusement, I was not very co-operative. It took a couple people to subdue my constant squirming and cursing and shrieking and kicking. Unfortunately, I was quickly overpowered. The only things I can kick now are four walls and a metal door, and that didn't last long because of the harsh warnings I was given.  
"Don't get me wrong," one guy had said, not bothering to actually open the door and speak to me directly, "the protesting is always entertaining. How desperate you are to try and stop this, that's entertaining. You, though, you're past entertainment. You're irritating, you're giving me a headache, and I advise that you shut the hell up before kicking that damn door isn't a risk you can choose anymore."  
That didn’t scare me as much as he probably intended it to. Whatever it meant, it wasn't very threatening. I figured I was going to be killed here anyways. That’s what happens in these situations, right? You are kidnapped and locked away, and then killed.

I guess I'm okay with that, or indifferent to the idea. Nobody would care much if I died, or at all. Making friends was not a skill I possessed. People my age don't like me. People older than me don't like me any more. All my teachers hate me—none of them ever said it out loud, but weekly calls home to discuss how incompetent I am doesn't exactly scream you're such a wonderful student. My parents would probably be happy about it.  
I'm not confirming I want to die, I am just not all that afraid to. That being said, I still do not like being stuck in an empty room, without my consent.

The handle on the door made a loud, annoying sound as it opened, revealing a tall, older, unimpressed looking man. He hardly glanced at me before saying, “Come here.” He sounded bored, tired, not threatening in the least, but that feeling was expressed. Hesitantly, I did exactly what he said. Before I could step as close as I expected to get, he gripped my shoulder, forced me towards him, facing the other way. Pulling my wrist tightly behind me, they were locked securely in handcuffs for God knows what reason. “Listen when instructed, and don’t try to run,” he ordered. I nodded, but I don’t think he cared much about my answer. Steering me out of the room, he shut the door again. There were two other guys with him; same age, same expressions. “Follow him.” He gestured to the one guy in front of me.  
Being taken down a very long, grey hallway and up to the a second floor of the building, I noticed this place—where ever I am—is pretty big. I would definitely get lost if there wasn’t someone guiding me.

The tension I was feeling didn't seem to affect anyone else but me. It was awkward and uncomfortable and I almost felt like I should say something, but the risk of being stabbed in the throat was too high, I thought.  
The guy I was following stopped in front of a set of double doors at the end of the second floor hallway. Strange; every other door we had passed—and we'd passed a lot—were a grey colour, simple—these ones were back, with an arched top, and gold coloured handles. Seemed like a pretty important room, if you considered the silver plaque on the door with the words "W. Sharpe, Office, Private" engraved in it. “Don’t speak unless spoken to.” Instead of being intimidated, I glared, trying not to look as confused and freaked out as I felt at the moment.

The door was opened, carefully, and I was pushed into the room, harshly. Looking behind me, the same guy smirked and closed the door.  
Fucking prick.

I noticed one thing right away about this room: it was really dark. There were two small desk lamps by the wall parallel to the door, on either side of the room, but that was pretty much the only light source. I could tell there was a massive window, completely covering that same wall, but there was a huge, black curtain blocking any possible light. In front of that curtain, there was a desk and behind that desk, another guy. I couldn’t see much of his profile, but his feet were on the desk like an arrogant bastard.

“You look nervous.” I flinched at the accented voice; it wasn't very loud, but it was close. Looking to my left, and then back at the empty desk, I didn’t understand how he got there so fast.

“I am not,” I lied flatly.

“You should be.” The volume of his voice was slightly lower when he said that, creepy and threatening and almost seductive at the same time. Words were pronounced differently, like he had some sort of accent at one point, but it subsided—it sounded British, maybe.

“Well, I'm not, okay? Who are you anyways? Where am I? And why in the hell are these stupid fucking handcuffs on me?” I had been fidgeting and twisting my hands frequently ever since I got them on. I wanted them to just break and fall to the floor already, but it was obvious that was not going to happen.

He walked back over to his desk leisurely, casually, as if I hadn't just been stolen from the streets, and sat in the chair. "I am not going to take them off if you keep struggling,” he commented, enjoying my frustration completely.  
I stopped moving and tried to calm down. Struggling against anything and everything that these people expected to put me through was exactly what I intended to do, but I would very much like my arms to be useful again. “Mind you, I don’t really feel like taking them off.” Well, my first impression of him being an arrogant bastard seemed entirely correct so far.

"So, I’m going to be handcuffed forever,” it was supposed to be a question, but I was too annoyed to phrase it as one.

“Most probably.” I could practically hear the smile in his voice, and it irritated me more than I could control.

“Could you at least turn on a light?” As if on cue, the whole room illuminated with light. His eyes closed for two seconds, then he opened them slowly.  
The room was pretty bright, but he seemed to be more affected by it than I was.

It didn’t look much like any other office room I’ve seen. It was big, really big, and pretty much empty. The walls were a pale grey—a depressing colour that seemed to stain almost everything around here—and a couple stacks of chairs were leaning against them, off to the side. There was a large bookshelf behind his desk that displayed old and uninteresting looking books. In the middle of the room, I stood. He, himself looked rather interesting: around my age, pale, with dark eyes and white hair  
I knew two things about this guy, two things that I could prove, at least. First, he's tall. He isn't standing now, but I can tell. Second, he was beautiful, almost impossibly beautiful. Though his personality could use a lot of work, I couldn't find a single flaw in his appearance. It was distracting.  
“Since an introduction was not provided, I am going to pretend my assumption of you being Mr. Sharpe is correct.”  
I watched a smile form on his face.

My eyes focused on anything in the room that was not the currently speaking pain in my neck, avoiding a big diversion that is him and how extremely attractive he may look at the moment. “Winter," he introduced himself. "Winter Sharpe.” He was trying to be charming, that was plainly obvious, but I wasn't that easy to manipulate, as appealing as he was.

Taking a breath and remembering my priorities, I shook off the almost compulsive thoughts of him and focused. “Well, Winter, you seem pretty important around here, considering you have an office and all. What do you need an office for anyways? This certainly does not look like any regular business, considering you kidnap people!” I started to get antsy with the whole handcuff situation again. “Why do you do that? What the hell is wrong with you? I mean, there is obviously something wrong with you! You probably pay those guys to be all tough and scary, right? Don’t you?” I really didn't intend on speaking that much, but I was okay with the fact that I did.

He took a second to think, analyze what I said. Mostly, it just seemed as if he were trying to make as much of a delay as possible, because he could tell it pissed me off. When he finally spoke, it just irritated me more. “You said considering twice.”

“And I’ll say it as many damn times as I want!”

“You have a bad temper, you know,” he spoke calmly and stood up again. “You are quarrelsome… and dissentious.” Walking towards me with his hands behind his back and stopping directly in front of me, he looked interested. Fascinated almost, like he were studying some amazing painting before deciding to buy it. Tilting my head slightly, he traced his index finger down my neck. His hand was cold and I would have shivered because of it, but I couldn’t because I was already frozen. I did not want him touching me, every bone in my body needed to protest against it, but I didn’t. I couldn’t do that either. The only thing I could do was hold my breath and look at him. “You are hot blooded, and I like that.”

He blinked once and then walked past me. “It’s Charles, right?”

“Charlie, actually…” I managed to whisper. I don't think he even heard me.  
There was the sound of the door opening, some whispered conversation and then, “Take this poor kid here back down to the first floor; he just looks so tired.” It wasn’t until he pointed it out that I realized my energy level was at an all time low; too low to argue about not being a kid. I am surprised I've been able to stand so easily for so long because the pure exhaustion in me was seriously messing with my stability.


	3. Chapter 3

ugh okay so i accidentally deleted the first half of this chapter and i really don't feel like rewriting it so sorry basically chris is charlies new cellmate and charlie is skilled with removing handcuffs with bobby pins 

The door unlocked and swung open, loudly. Christopher jumped, but I stayed completely still. Dalton stepped in. He looked at Christopher, then me, and then back at Christopher. “Why are your handcuffs off?” Chris glanced at me but we both stayed quiet.

Without any other discussion, he picked Christopher up by the shirt and started to drag him out of the room. He screamed and kicked but it didn’t help at all. “Don’t hurt him!” I stood up.

“Why?” The question was more like ‘what are you going to do about it?’

“I took them off. Don’t hurt him.” He let Christopher go. As soon as he was free, he crawled back over to the corner and pulled his legs close to him.  
Dalton pulled a small handheld transceiver from his pocket. “Sir.”

“I am busy now, Dalton,” the static sounding voice was familiar, "but I will assume this is urgent and act like I care."

Dalton sort of huffed, looking very annoyed. “An inmate has managed to free himself and one other from the handcuffs,” he informed.

“Which one?” Winter asked, clearly annoyed that someone was disrupting whatever he was doing.

“A new one, Charlie Cole.” It was quiet for a while. I could hear Christopher’s uneasy breathing but that was about it. He was trying not to cry, but it wasn’t working out very well. I wondered how Dalton knew my last name without being told what it was.  
Finally, there was a break of silence. An order that I really didn't want to hear, “Bring him to me.”

I stood in the same spot in the not-so-office-looking office. Well, technically, I was sitting right now. I had been standing for a while and he didn’t say anything. I got tired and uncomfortable, so I just sat with my legs crossed on the floor. My hands were behind my back again. The metal bracelets were so tight now that I couldn’t feel anything from my fingers to somewhere in the middle of my arm. I am almost certain that there would soon be, if there isn't already, a bluish coloured bruise around both of my wrists.

Winter was sitting in his chair again, with his back turned to me, staring out the window. He had been sitting like that when I got here and he hasn’t moved once. It was probably the middle of the night. The curtain had been pulled back, revealing the stillness of the outside world—someplace I very much wished I was at the moment. I was bored, really bored. I expected to get yelled at or hit or worse when I got here, but nothing had happened so far.

"Do you think this is a game?" I looked up, surprised to hear something after such a long stretch of silence. He was facing me now. His ire was clear and I could tell he wanted to express it in a way, any way, but he went against it and strained to stay composed. "Do you have some need to amuse yourself and see how long you can provoke me until something happens that will make you regret your decisions?" No, I most definitely did not. That question was stupid, but I didn't say anything.  
I didn't understand why he was holding back. Morals against hurting others wasn't something I expected him to have. I didn't want to be hurt. I didn't want to be here, with him, in this room or anywhere near this building, but something inside of me needed to figure this guy out. “Charlie Cole,” he sighed, placing an elbow on his desk and resting his chin his an upturned palm. "Sweet, clueless, Charlie Cole.”

“What do you mean clueless?"

“You don’t know how much trouble you should be in right now.”

“For taking off the handcuffs, you really think it’s that big of a deal?”

“Yes, I do. Restriction is a massive deal around here. It wouldn’t matter if it wasn’t anyways, whatever I say is obeyed and I say you are to keep the handcuffs on.” I looked at the floor again. This guy was obviously really important and I would be smart if I didn’t question him and stopped arguing. “Fortunately for you, I'm going to let you off easy.”

But questioning is what I do best. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you are not going to get punished,” he clarified, glower at me like I was a complete nuisance.  
Punished. Ha. It sounded like I was a child or a pet, having to be told right from wrong. I know damn well what I should and shouldn't do, whether he agrees or approves of my choices is not my problem. Ah, yes, I was going to keep my difficult and bitchy attitude until I die, which will probably be no more than another hour. “Why?” I asked.

“Do you want to be?” He seemed genuinely curious and entertained to know my answer. Obviously, he was a very sadistic person.

“I don’t really care, to be completely honest with you. I am going to be killed or end up dying here in some way, I know that. I do not want you to hesitate. I would rather die quickly than end up being alive, constantly beaten or whatever, but have a chance to live.” Once again, he evaluated my answer. It was silent, until I mumbled to myself, “I'm not very sweet either.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because I'm not.” He nodded, as if he agreed.

“Dalton.” The door behind me opened. “Take off the handcuffs.” I heard footsteps and Dalton grabbed my forearm, standing me up. He did what he was told to do. “Good." Winter seemed satisfied. "Now, keep them off of him, and bring the other one in.”

“But, sir," Dalton argued. "There’s no discipline, not even to the minimum.”

“Take Charlie back to floor one," Winter repeated slowly, his voice a little more serious, "and bring the other in.” It was apparent that Dalton was bothering him and he didn’t want to talk anymore. Looking a little discontent himself, Dalton followed orders.


	4. Chapter 4

I rushed over to Christopher as soon as the door opened. "What'd he do to you?" His eyes were red and filled with tears; they seemed to look past me, not being focused on anything. He looked weak, debilitated, completely energy drained. “Chris?” He inhaled once and then completely collapsed.I don’t know how long he’d been unconscious for, a couple hours maybe. At this point, I was seriously concerned. I couldn’t do anything, except wait. It didn’t matter how many times I pleaded for someone to help, nobody was going to listen.  
He started groaning, moving randomly and hastily. “Chris.” I kneeled beside him, his violent actions increased. “Christopher!” Putting my hand on his shoulder, he opened his eyes and screamed. The loudest, high-pitched most wretched and panic stricken scream came from him. I flinched and covered my ears. What the fuck did Winter do to him?  
He turned to his side, facing the wall, and broke down instantly. “Seriously, what happened when you—” He screamed again, as soon as I touched him. It sounded like he was being tortured, like I was torturing him. “Does it hurt when I touch you?” He continued to cry into the wall. “Chris, talk to me.”  
“He won’t let me,” his voice was low, it sounded like he hadn’t talked for days.  
“Who, Winter? Why not?” He shook his head, not saying anything else.  
He fell asleep again. I was concerned about letting him do this; I felt like there was a high chance he wouldn’t wake up, but he looked really tired, so I didn’t disturb him. I did attempt to talk to him again, before he passed out, but it didn’t work out. Whatever I said, his response would always be either “I can’t talk to you,” or, “He won’t let me.” Whenever I got close to him he’d tell me not to touch him. That’s it. Those are the only words he’d say. I don’t know what the hell Winter did, but it seems to be effecting me more than Christopher. Other than him being in pure agony and such.  
The door opened, I saw Dalton. “You're to see Mr. Sharpe now.”  
“Shush! Do you not see he is sleeping? What the heck is wrong with you?” He rolled his eyes and I stood up. “So… you listen to Winter all the time?” I asked when we were walking down the long hallway.  
“That’s my job.”  
“Well, your job sucks.” He glanced at me. “Think about it. You are, like, thirty something, taking orders from a teenager. You don’t ever think this a pretty low point in your life?” He laughed emotionlessly.  
We stopped in front of the closed doors. Dalton did some complicated knock that I would have much trouble with repeating. Before an answer was giving, he said, “Inmate number one-thee-six-nine-two.” Damn, is that a random number or are they counting people?  
“Enter.” Dalton looked at me, telling me I was to go in alone. Slowly, I turned one of the door handles and walked in the room. It was dark in the room again, so dark I couldn’t see anything. Shutting the door tentatively, I took a cautious step forward. “Take another step.” I listened to the currently faceless voice. “Take another two steps…” I sighed and did as told. “…Now turn around.”  
“Why am I doing this?” I asked, facing the other way.  
“You continue to listen, and I find it amusing.”  
“Well, could you get to the point. Why am I here, what do you want? Why is the room always so dark?”  
“What’s your blood type?” He moved to somewhere behind me. It irritated me that he didn’t answer any one of my questions, but I was caught off guard by his.  
“I—I don’t know. Why would you want to know that?”  
“I am a curious person.” He was standing in front of me now, I could tell. “And you are a very interesting person; always by yourself, wondering out at night through the shadows.” It sounded like he’d been stalking me before I didn't doubt that he had. I replayed the last couple weeks in my head. I don’t remember being even slightly concerned about someone watching or following me until right before I was taken here, but he’d obviously been there, observing, listening. “You should stay away from the shadows; they are a dark and dangerous place. You never really know what’s in there and if you go and find out, you never really know if you’re coming back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took a sick day at school I wrote a fuck ton ha


	5. Chapter 5

I poked at the bandage around my wrist. It was itchy and uncomfortable and I didn't like it. I don’t remember what happened to it. I can’t remember, actually. It’s like the memory of that deleted itself. I remember Chris and his unexpected seizure, I remember going back to Winter’s office, but as soon as I step in the room, it’s blank. The flashback just stops completely. I tried thinking about something else, like my parents. I wouldn’t be surprised if they already realized I'm missing and didn’t even phone the police. Nobody else would report me missing either, so when I die, no one is going to know, or care. I guess that is sort of depressing.  
“I wonder what Christopher is doing right now.” The thought hadn’t been very interesting until I said it. He’d been gone since I’d gotten back, two hours ago. It was approximately two in the morning. Winter better leave him the fuck alone. Whatever the hell he’s doing needs to, like… stop.  
“Charlie.” I looked up.  
“Let me guess, I'm to see Mr. Sharpe now?” That was the only reason I was taken out of this cell. Surprisingly, he shook his head.  
“There are a couple question I need you to answer.” Dalton glanced over a clipboard I never realized he had. “Mostly yes or no answers, not too hard. Some of them you might be asked daily and it doesn't take that long, but you’ll be sick of answering them the longer you’re here. Considering you don’t…” He glanced at me, I waited for the rest of the sentence but never got it. “First question.” He doesn’t want me to know I'm going to die. Jokes on you, I already realized that. “Do you get sick and/or nauseous easily?”  
“Not really,” I answered, bored.  
“Do you take any medication? If yes, what type?”  
“Not really," I said again. "I get headaches randomly, so I take pills for that. And I, uh, I have an inhaler…” That was something I never liked to admit. People who knew I had one always teased me about it. Asthma, it’s not a fun thing.  
“Allergies?”  
“Cats, dogs, any type of animal really, dust, flowers and every type of tree nut.”  
“Oh, is that it?” That was the first time I’d heard some sort of amusement in his voice. “Are you allergic to bees, do you have any serious reactions to mosquito bites?”  
“Bees and mosquitoes…” I thought for a second, wondering why he would want to know if I had those two allergies in particular. “Nope, there are two things I'm not allergic to. I'm also lactose intolerant, if you would like to write that down. So, I guess the answer to your question is yes, I do have allergies.”  
“Exact age?”  
“Thirty two.” I smirked when he looked at me with an impatient expression. “Shouldn’t you already know my age? You know my last name.”  
“We have an estimate, but it’s not official.” We? We as in him and Winter, or is he talking about other people?  
“Exact age,” I repeated quietly. “Sixteen years, four months, twenty six days”—I glanced at the clock— “Two hours and twenty six, twenty seven seconds.”  
“We’ve got a smart ass in the building.” I took that as a compliment. “Do you know why you're here?” His tone was serious now. I shook my head.  
“Do you know why I'm here? Well, obviously you would. You work for Winter, I'm sure he would give some kind of information about your job… Why are you working for Winter? It doesn't seem like a very pleasant experience.


	6. Chapter 6

“I see you’ve wandered around,” he pointed out casually. I couldn’t speak. Barely able to breathe, I could hear my heartbeat in my ears. “Do you think that was a smart thing to do?” I shook my head. “Then why did you do it?” “I, uh—the door was unlocked and…”  
“You are as curious a person as I, Charlie. I can see that clearly. Still clueless, most definitely, but very curious.” This was the closest I've ever been to him and all I could do was stare at him, his eyes, specifically. His eyes were fixed on mine. Hands down, they were the most interesting pair of eyes I had ever seen, ever. Achromatic, completely and entirely colour drained, not even the slightest hint of it. Patterns covered the iris, a kaleidoscope of black and white. Contacts weren’t even a possibility. As strange as they were, I knew they were real.  
It was insane, it was inhuman; you cannot have eyes like that. They would probably fit better on some sort of monster or mythical creature, but they were real and they belonged to him. “You have nice eyes,” I breathed. Fucking hell, I really didn’t mean to say that.  
“So I've been told.” I felt like he was searching my own eyes for something, and he must've found whatever that was because he smirked before he broke his stare and turned away. “Compliments will not get you very far, though. That does not make up for your now multiple careless mistakes.”  
“That’s not why I said it.” That came out in a harsh tone. He faced me again and sighed.  
“You're never going to learn, are you? Your actions have consequences, Charlie, and I am not going to just let this slide and forget about it anymore.”  
“What are you going to do?”  
“You will find out in time, but right now, you are to go back to your cell.”  
“No.” Even I was shocked at my sudden burst of rebellion, but I stuck to it. “I’m not going back there. You can’t boss me around like you own me, because you don’t. I don’t care if you think you're so tough, this is wrong. Kidnapping people is wrong.” I don’t know exactly what happened in that second, but I was pushed backwards, into the door. It hurt, a lot, and I fell to the ground, covering my head. Did he just push me? It seemed like a logical answer, but the speed of that wasn’t as easy to explain.  
“As interesting as I find you, I am not going to listen to you disrespect me, my choices or my actions. I do own you now, you belong to me. You are my property and because of that, you are to do as I say and not question me. It is unfortunate that violence had to be used, but it is not as bad as it could be.”  
“I hate you.” He gritted his teeth and turned around.   
Don’t say that,” he spoke quietly, uncharacteristically sad, almost. “You don’t mean it, don’t say that.”  
He was hurt. I'd found some sort of weakness. This was good, for me, at least. “I do mean it. I hate you, more than anyone or anything in the world." My heart probably isn't beating at a very healthy speed right now, but I was so angry and frustrated, I didn't even care. "You're evil and sickening and you deserve to die.” I realized that was a stupid thing to say when he started walking closer to me. Panic was quickly rising inside of me he took my arm and pulled me to my feet. He grasped my shoulder and pushed me backwards again. He was close, too close, and with my back pressed against the door, I couldn’t really do anything about it.  
I could feel his breath hit my face, mine being shaky and unsteady. “Charlie, I am warning you now. You cannot say that, you will not say that. That is an order and I expect you to follow it. You will follow it. Are we understood?” I nodded quickly and he removed his grip on me, causing me to fall to the floor once again. Well there’s probably going to be bruises on my back now too, thanks for that. “You're welcome.” I didn’t say that out loud, did I? No, I didn’t… “Go back to where you're supposed to be now.”  
“Wait.” He looked at me again, eyebrows raised. “How’d you just do that, respond to what I said?”  
“You don’t think about things before you say them aloud, maybe you should.” I know for an absolute fact that I did not say that out loud. “Now, please leave.”  
“Why am I here?”  
“Well, currently, you’re here because you keep stalling. I told you to leave.” I knew I wasn’t wanted in the room anymore, but that didn’t matter to me. I wanted answers, and I was going to get them one way or another.  
“You know I'm a curious person, so you should just tell me because I’m not moving from this spot until I hear what I want to hear. I do not care what you do, or threaten to do.” Yes, I was that stubborn. He paced around the room again, probably deciding what to do with me.  
Sighing once, he looked at me and spoke, “You are here because I chose you.”  
“Chose me for what exactly?”  
“It’s difficult to describe in words.” So it’s an action? My mind jumped to different possibilities that he could do to me; horrible, disgusting things that I really didn’t want to have happen.  
“Is it bad?” I questioned.  
“I suppose it could be. It’s not mandatory that it has to be a bad experience, but most people scream and cry and struggle…” Looking out the huge window, the volume of his voice decreased until there was a pause and he stopped speaking. “However,” he spun around sharply and I flinched, “as I said before; it doesn’t have to be.”  
“So you can’t tell me what it is?”  
“No.” He grinned. “But I can show you if you want.”  
“Oh, um, no, that’s alright.” I stood up. “I'm good, seriously.”  
“You're afraid, full of fear. I can sense that, Charlie, and I shouldn’t. You don’t want your predators knowing you're afraid or intimidated; you want to act like you aren’t, pretend that you're not. Otherwise…” I looked at him and waited for him to finish the sentence. “Well, you’ve just shown weakness, and weakness shows lack of strength. In simple terms, without making things too complicated for your brain to understand, if you show you are afraid, you are completely screwed.”


	7. Chapter 7

“What happened to Chris?” I know I was switching topics almost too often, but I had a lot of questions. If this was my only chance to talk to him reasonably, I would not hesitate to find out as much as possible. “Ah, Christopher Tate," he sighed. "A relatively normal boy with a relatively normal life. Fifteen, brunet, lives with both parents and a sister. He’s an attractive young male, I can say that truthfully, but not very interesting. Plus, he is easily affected by his emotions and I find that quite annoying. Always crying and yelling and whining to let him free, bring him back to his parents... 'Take me back,' ” he said in mock tone. “'Please, let me go. You can’t do this. I wanna go home.’ Honestly, to just think about it causes a headache to form. It's only constant complaints all the time from him.”  
“What did you do to him, though?” I asked again. “He says you won’t let him talk to me. He screams when I touch him. Where is he now even?”  
Winter turned away from the window and faced me. “He won’t talk? Good. That is one less aggravating voice I have to listen to. He just so…” He tried searching for the right word, but ended up just sighing again in frustration. It was obvious now, that he wasn’t as posh as he talked and acted every other time I’d been around him. I didn’t think Chris was that bad, but obviously he did not make a very good impression on Winter. “I should not have chosen him, I should have ignored him completely—but no. I was desperate and I just had to go out in the morning...”  
“Uh…” I could tell he was talking to himself more than he was talking to me and I felt really awkward having to be here. Now I wanted to leave. “I am just going to go back to—”  
“No.” He pointed at me and I froze. “You wanted to stay, you are going to stay. You wanted answers, you will get answers. Ask another question.” Well this is just fantastic. Me and my big mouth and my stubborn personality have to go around causing trouble and getting myself into all sorts of situations.  
Unhappy, I slid my back down against the door until I was sitting on the carpeted floor again. Questions, questions. What did I want to ask? What did I want to know? I forgot every question I had.  
Forgot. That`s it, that was one. “My memory,” I stated. “I can’t remember a conversation I had with you before.”  
I watched a smile form on his face as I said that and then disappear just as quickly. “What do you mean by that?” he asked innocently.  
“Don’t act stupid, you know exactly what I mean! I know that you know and you're not telling me.”  
“You're also a very smart person, Charlie. Good with reading people and expressions.”  
“Why do you keep saying things like that? I don’t really care what you think I am, I already know.”  
“I'm guessing you want the answer to your first question more than the second,” he said, ignoring my comment. That annoyed me, but it was true. “That is the exact reason I am not going to tell you.” Yes, he is now officially and asshole. “But the other question, the reason why I am so interested in you. The answer is simply that, I am interested in you. You are an interesting person, Charlie Cole, and I would like to know more about you.”  
“Why do you know so much about Christopher and not me?”  
“Everybody has a file. All of the information is collected over time, sometimes is takes months.” Everybody. That means there's more people here, and he's got information on everyone of them. “But you, Charlie, you do not have a file. During the time I’ve spent observing you, you never reveal any information as to who you are. What I do know is limited.” He made the act of stalking sound like such a natural thing.  
“What do you know?”  
“To start, socializing is not in your daily routine. Probably because of a troubled childhood, am I right?” I didn’t answer; he took that as a yes. “You simply do not talk to people, not even your parents. That is why you surprised me. You talk to Dalton, you did talk to Christopher, and you to talk myself.”  
“First of all, Chris is my friend.”  
“You just met him,” he argued,.  
“That doesn’t matter. Secondly, I talk to Dalton because I want to. He’s more of a parental figure to me than my own, even though the only fucking thing he does is take me to and from this room, or those stupid question things I have to do now. And you. I don’t really talk to you, per se, I question you. My only goal when communicating with you is to get answers, you should know that, since you think you're all knowing and everything.”  
“All knowing?” He laughed. “Another compliment, but I am far from that. I have as much to learn as you, Charlie, we just need to learn different things.”  
“And that's another thing! Why do you keep saying my name in every sentence? It’s weird.”  
“Perhaps, but your name isn’t. I quite like your name, and that’s why I say it.” Well it’s my name, and I don’t want your cocky ass, vain ass, egotistic ass saying it. “Just a suggestion, for future references, a recommendation really. I can tolerate cursing. But when it’s directed towards me, that is a different story. It would be best if you did not do that.” There was no time for a response before he continued with saying, “I think that is enough questions.”  
“So I can leave now?”  
“Again, another question…”  
“I'm going to leave now,” I stated, “and go back to the cell I'm supposed to be locked in at the moment because apparently Winter doesn’t like answering questions.”  
“Clever.” He smiled. “But you're not going back there. Follow me.”


	8. Chapter 8

“Where are we going?” I asked, exiting the room and following behind him. There was no answer, but he stopped suddenly and I ran in to him. “Oh, sorry…” That is totally not embarrassing. Shut the fudge up, little voice in my head.  
“You should never apologize.” He turned to me. “You apologize to ask forgiveness, you shouldn’t care about forgiveness. Everything you do, every mistake, you shouldn’t have to be forgiven for it. Live as if you're above everyone else.”  
“Why should I do that?”  
“Questions,” he muttered quietly. “Anyways, we’re here.” Here wasn’t very far. I looked behind me and noticed we’d only gone to the opposite end of the hallway. In front of me, there was another set of double doors exactly the same as the other ones. The one and only difference was the golden plaque, reading the words "Stay out."  
“Doesn’t look like we’re aloud in,” I said with sarcasm.  
“You wouldn’t be, but you are with me, so it is acceptable.” He pushed open both doors.  
I expected one of two things: something extremely amazing, or something extremely disturbing. What I saw didn’t fit in either of those categories. It was just a room. Similar to the other room, there was a window that completely submerged one wall, the left wall, and black drapes that blocked everything out. These drapes were slightly different, with a simple, curved, white pattern lining the bottom. There was a huge bed in the middle of the room; black sheets fell over top of it. Everything else was pretty normal, with a slight Gothic style to it. There was nothing really special about it, but I loved this room.  
“This is a bedroom.” He nodded. "Your bedroom,” I realized. “It’s nice.” He sat on his bed and I continued to stand in the same spot. “Why am I here, in this room?”  
“I want you…” He paused and looked at me. “To stay here.”  
“Here, in your room?”  
“That is what I said. I am not in here very often, if that is what you are concerned about. I would most liking be found in my office.”  
“What do you do in there anyways? I mean, besides sit in your chair and stare out the window in the dark.” He smiled and looked at the floor.  
“Nothing of interest to you, probably.”  
“I wanna know.”  
“Meetings,” he answered, “A lot of meetings. Discussions, phone calls, paper work. Typical office things, you know.”  
“You sound like some professional business guy.” There was a slight chuckle, and then a silence.  
“No, that is not me. That would be my father.”  
“What does he do?”  
“Business,” he answered simply.  
“And Dalton, he works for you?”  
“Technically, he works for my father, everyone here works for my father. They do what I tell them because he is a very powerful man, and he listens to me.” Listens. It must be nice to have a parent that cares. "I mean, it’s not like he cares about what I say, if it’s not work related, he does not want to hear it...” Again, it was like he could detect my thoughts. It was quiet again; I could hear the crickets outside.  
“I'm sorry.” I’d spoken before I could stop myself.  
“Forgiveness, such a useless thing.” He looked at me. “What are you sorry for?”  
“I don’t know. Your dad not listening to you, I guess. I know what that’s like, and it sucks.” He focused on the floor again, and I focused on trying to sort my thoughts. I don’t know why I'm being so nice to him right now, I still hate him. A lot.  
“Sit.” He rested his hand on the spot next to him. Slowly and cautiously, I walked towards the bed and sat at the end of it. “There's still fear inside you, Charlie. Get rid of it.” I sighed and closed my eyes. Don’t be scared. There's no reason to be scared.  
Yes there is, you know there is. You should be scared, very scared.  
The voice in my head was really starting to bother me now. I flinched and opened my eyes when I felt something cold on my face. “Don’t move,” he whispered. I stayed completely still. I didn’t understand why his hand was so cold or why he was touching me, but I didn’t question it. “Why is your hair blue?”  
“I—I don’t know, because I dyed it. I thought it would make me look cooler.” I smiled at the stupid thoughts I’d had before. It didn’t make me any cooler, obviously, but I liked the colour so I kept it.  
“Why would you want to be cool? To be cool, you have to be cold. Your personality, it’s cold, and you're a poor excuse for a human.” Well he's one to talk. “Do you like games, Charlie?” He stood up.  
“Games?” He nodded. “Sure, yeah. Games are cool, I guess.”  
“That’s good to hear.”  
“Why?” I asked skeptically.  
“It just is.”


	9. Chapter 9

“Charlie…” I stayed motionless with my eyes closed. Whoever was talking to me is going to have to deal with not getting an answer because I want to sleep. “Charlie, you have to wake up now.” The realization that I was still with my kidnapper hit me and I groaned. I felt him sit beside me, but I still didn’t move. “Stubborn,” he mumbled. “Very stubborn.” A smile insisted on showing, though I tried very hard to stop it. “It is two in the afternoon,” he let me know, as if I cared. "You should be awake now."  
“So?" I asked, looking at him. "I'm tired, let me sleep. It’s not like I have to wake up to do things anymore.”  
“True, but I would prefer you awake than sleeping all day.”  
“Why?” I sat up and yawned.  
“I can talk to you when you are awake, rather than listening to you talk the whole time you are asleep.” I didn’t realize I talked in my sleep, and no one had ever told me that before. What really sucked, is that I didn’t even remember what my dream was about, so I had no idea what I could of said. “Don’t worry, you didn’t say anything too inappropriate.” I laughed awkwardly, mentally slapped myself. “Anyways, the actual purpose for waking you up is because you need to come with me.”  
“Where?”  
“Um…” He looked around the room. “Doesn’t matter right now, you just need to get dressed.”  
“Into what exactly?”  
“So many questions.” He pointed to a door at the side of the room. “That there, that is a closet, it contains clothes. Usually, people wear some type of clothing, so…” I crawled out of the bed and stood up.  
“Ha, ha, very funny.” He smiled and left the room.  
Still half asleep, I grabbed some clothes and put on whatever I was holding, then lazily put small amount of effort into trying to fix my hair because I knew it looked terrible. Probably ended up making it worse, but that didn't concern me to a very great extent. It wasn't that long before he came back in the room. “Hey, did you do this?” I asked, holding up my arm, he nodded in response. I examined my wrist. There was no bandage on it anymore and I just realized that a couple seconds ago. A slight scar was marked on it, but it wasn’t that noticeable. “Hm, thanks. And you never told me where we're going.”  
“Nowhere far, to my office really. My father is coming and I am going to see him, you are coming with me.” I nodded, not understanding why I had to come. He looked me over, head to toe. His clothes, or what I assume is his clothes, were sort of big on me, but only slightly. “There are a couple things you should probably know…” His eyes were on mine again.


	10. Chapter 10

Boredom had completely taken over my body. Winter went to go do office things, he would not specify that any more for me. I was alone and tired, even though I have done close to absolutely nothing lately. I was tired of doing nothing. Sighing, I wished something interesting or the least bit exciting would happen. I hated being here, being stuck here. I am always paranoid that something extremely bad is going to happen to me and it probably will, sooner or later. The fact that it hasn't happened yet, and I have no idea what it's going to be, scares me even more.  
All of a sudden, the door smashed open. Winter walked in seemingly frustrated, eyes darker than usual. He looked pale, really pale; you could see the bluish-green veins running up his arms. “You okay?” I sat up cautiously and stared at him. He nodded his head and stood still for a while, eyes closed, breathing heavily. “Are you sure?”  
“Yes, Charlie. I'm fine.”  
“You don’t look very fine to me.” I laid back on the bed and stared at the ceiling.  
“Your actions have consequences.” I glanced at him in confusion. “I told you that before. Your actions have consequences, Charlie, and I am not going to just let this slide and forget about it anymore.”  
“Yeah, you never did anything though.”  
“I said you would find out.” I really don’t want to find out.  
“Oh, um, actually, I think you did do something about that already.” I sat up again. “That memory totally just slipped from my mind. How forgetful am I? No need to worry about it now, right?”  
“Nice try, but no.” He smiled, standing in front of me and I looked up at him. “I asked you if you liked games before. You said yes.” I looked around the room, my hands intertwined with each other repeatedly as I fidgeted with them. “I have a game for you, Charlie.”  
“I don’t really like games anymore. I change my mind a lot, you know.”  
“But they’re fun, especially my type of game.” I don’t like where this is going…  
“Well, I'm sure your game is just lovely,” I slipped past him, closer to the door, “but I need to go to the, uh, washroom? Yeah, small bladder, so—”  
I barely managed to turn the door handle before he said, “Stay.” I froze. Fuck, now you're in trouble. I know that already, conscience, so you can shut up. “You must be slightly frustrated right now, having to follow every order I give you.”  
“I don’t have to.”  
“Turn around.” I faced him, with a sigh. “No, you don’t have to, but you choose to, because you know you should. That’s smart.” He pressed his hand to my chest and pushed me backwards, gently, until I hit the door. “I have an order for you, Charlie,” he said, getting closer to me. “Listen closely.” I nodded, kind of afraid of what he might say. “I am going to kiss you right now, and I want you to kiss back.” Wait. What? I opened my mouth to say something, but he took that as an advantage. My immediate reaction to being kissed is to kiss back, so I don’t think I had to be told. That was honestly the only reason I kissed back. Yeah.  
This is wrong, Charlie. This is his game, playing with your emotions. He can’t like you, he’s evil! Would any sane person fall for the monter who stole them away from the world, and is most likely torturing their friend?  
For once, that voice said something I agreed with. “Winter, don’t.” I pushed him away gingerly. His expression showed he was surprised that I didn’t listen to what he said. Heck, I surprised myself by not listening to what he said, but that voice was right. His eyes grew darker than they already were and a lot more vicious It was frightening, to be honest. I backed away from him, towards the bed. Now you’ve done it. He's going to get really pissed off and probably torture you like he’s doing to Chris. “I'm sorry, but I'm not going to kiss you. I can’t. That’s one order that I'm going to have to ignore.” A familiar thing happened, two seconds pasted and I was pinned to the bed. I still don’t understand that, but there's no time to question it. Winter is probably going to kill me now.  
I was wrong, he just tried to kiss me again. “Winter, stop it!” I kicked him in the stomach, my hands being useless right now due to him holding my arms down. That kick didn’t do anything, seriously, nothing. He didn’t even flinch. The fuck is this? I know I am short and not that strong, but that kick should have hurt, at least a little! “Could you let go of me?” I asked, frustrated.  
“Could you kiss me?”  
“No.”  
“That is your answer.” Some sigh slash groan sort of sound came out of me and I started to squirm. I didn’t like being all man handle and touched and unable to move. “There is no point to that, besides it being amusing.”  
“Let me go or I’ll scream!”  
“No one will hear you.” I don’t know why, but I felt like crying. Everything just hit me at once. I’d been taken from my parents, my parents who didn’t care about me at all. I am stuck here, listening to some crazy guy who apparently doesn’t feel any pain, basically being a slave. I have absolutely no one anymore. My one friend I ever made is hurting and I am probably going to die soon.  
“Winter, please.” My voice cracked slightly. Any other time, I would have found that really awkward, but I didn’t care right now. Something softened in his eyes, but it happened as fast as he pinned me to the bed, then they went dark again.  
“You look nervous.”  
“I am.”  
“Good. You should be.” Wow. You quote yourself, how cool are you.  
Speaking of cool, he put his ice-cold hand on my face. I flinched, something I've been doing a lot of lately. “Why are your hands so cold?” I had been wondering that for a while.  
“There as cold as death, and that’s what I am.” His free hand moved to my waist. Ah, shit. This is not a good thing, definitely not a good thing! He could tell I was panicking inside, it was obvious. “It doesn’t have to be a bad experience, Charlie.” He smiled and I started to struggle again. Oh, no,this was not going to happen—I wasn’t going to let this happen.


	11. Chapter 11

“Don’t do this Winter. I know you're not like this. Think about it.”  
“Shut up!” Of course I'm not going to shut up, he acts like he hasn’t argued with me before.  
“All of those other times when we just talked. You're not a kidnapper, you're not a murderer.” I let out a shaky breath. I can’t be nervous right now, I have to stay calm. I have to take his own advice and get rid of all the fear. “You're not the type of person who does this, you act like you are but I know you're not.”  
“Charlie, that’s an order.”  
“Why are you acting, Winter, why are you pretending?"  
“I am not pretending, that’s who I am! You should be scared of me, Charlie, you should be terrified. Why aren’t you? I killed your friend. He is dead. Why doesn’t that scare you?” His breathing was uneven; he was the one panicking now, not me. Even though it hurt me more than anything to know Chris was dead, and to have him bring it up brought back a strong feeling of guilt, I stayed calm.  
“Because you tell me not to be,” I told him quietly. “You do that for a reason, don’t you? You do it because I shouldn’t be scared. You know you're a good person on the inside.” I looked into his eyes. “I know you more than you think I do, Winter.”  
This time he kissed me, I kissed back because I wanted to, not just because it was a reaction. I don’t think I've ever been kissed so aggressively yet passionately in my life.  
Charlie, I warned you before about him and—  
I shut out that voice completely; it was the last thing I wanted to think about right now. All I was focused on was Winter. All of the affliction I had ten seconds ago, that was gone. I don’t know why I suddenly wanted to kiss him, but I did.  
No. It wasn’t that I just wanted to kiss him, I needed to kiss him. Every part of me needed him. I needed to be near him, to see him, to touch him. He was a necessity, a requirement, and a weakness. I would do anything for him, anything at all, he just had to ask. Every order he gave, I would listen to. I craved him, I desired him, and right now there was nothing but lust for him.  
“Your thoughts are distracting.”  
“They’re about you, so it makes sense.” He was amused by that comment. Figures, it’s a compliment. It doesn’t matter how many times he denies them, it’s obvious he loves getting them, anyone could tell. “What kind of games do you like?” I asked, remembering our conversation.  
“Violent ones, vengeful ones.” This both concerned and intrigued me. His eyes were entirely black now, probably filled with the same lust that I felt. “Do you wanna play?” Okay, Charlie, internal debate. Think about this carefully before you answer. What are you going to do? Agree and risk your life, most likely ending up dead in the end, or say no? Who knows what will happen if I say no…  
Barely tilting my chin to nod, he removed my shirt and started kissing down my neck. “F-fuck, Winter,” I stuttered, and felt him smile against my skin. I had one hand on his shoulder and the other in his hair. He paused for a second, and there was a prick feeling in my neck. At first, it didn’t feel like anything. A mosquito bite, really, and I had the urge to swat whatever it was away, but then the discomfort increased. “What the fuck, Winter?” He didn’t answer, and the pain continued. “Winter… seriously.” Still no answer. At this point, I started to freak out again. All of that desire, yeah, that was gone. Completely gone. The only thing I felt was fear, fear and... blood.  
I was bleeding, a lot. No small little mosquito bite, oh no, far from that. “God dammit, Winter. Stop!”  
You know that moment, when you go to the doctors’ and get a shot. When the needle slides into your skin, and there’s that slight pressure when whatever antibiotics in it enters your bloodstream. That’s what I felt right now, but backwards, times a thousand. I could feel the blood being drained from my veins.  
I tried to push him away, but he held my arms down again. It doesn’t have to be a bad experience, Charlie. The words echoed in my head. This is what he was talking about? This is what people would yell and cry and struggle about? Well, I can understand why!  
It became more difficult to keep my eyes open. I felt weak and couldn’t do anything but lay there and take it. I wanted to scream, but I couldn't make any sounds. I wanted to hit him or kick him or do something to make him stop, but I couldn't do that either. “Winter, stop it!” I managed to choke out.  
Surprisingly, he did. He sat up and looked at me, head tilted, lips stained red with a sadistic smile playing on them. Wait. Are those—No, no, it can’t be. It’s impossible, they're not real. You're seeing things, Charlie, hallucinating. Regular people don’t have fangs.  
“I'm not a regular person.” My vision blurred, I don’t know if it was from the tears or the blood loss. He traced his fingers down my stomach and I was too energy drained to do anything about it. “Go to sleep now, Charlie,” he said gently. I didn't want to, I didn't want to die, but his voice was so sweet and harmonious, and I was so tired.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sighs this took my a ridiculous amount of time to edit but I was busy 
> 
> Stop I know what your thinking 
> 
> I was achally busy swearsys

I am dead. I blacked out, died and now I am dead.  
No, that didn’t actually happen. Oh, what a shame. I shifted on the bed I was laying on and groaned. Bad decision, I shouldn’t have moved. I wish I were dead, my body hurt all over, like pain was the only thing running through my veins.  
The memory flooded back. No, that can’t be a memory, I just dreamt that. Yeah, that was it. I fell asleep and had a really weird, very realistic dream. The craziest, most messed up dream of my life. I touched my neck and instantly winced. Nope, not a dream. “What dream?” I gasped quietly out of surprise and looked at Winter. He stood in the door frame, curious to know the answer to his question.  
I just shook my head directed my stare elsewhere. "Go away," I almost sounded like I was going to start crying again, and I really didn't want that. He rolled his eyes and left the room. Ignoring my body’s protests, and my feelings telling me he was one of the most frightening thing I have ever seen, I crawled out of the bed and followed him. I kept my hand close to the wall in case I fell; balance wasn’t something I had at the moment. I didn’t understand why he was acting so normal right now. What happened was not normal, or anywhere near it. “Winter,” my voice was quiet, so quiet I was surprised he heard me at all. Turning around in the middle of the hall to look at me, I knew he had heard.  
“Yes, Charlie,” he responded with some sort of peace and calmness in his voice, like we were close friends  
“I need to ask you a question,” I told him, my voice a little louder.  
“I thought we were past questions at this point.”  
“I have one more. Last one, I swear.” He sighed and nodded, telling me it was alright. What exactly did I want to ask, though? I only had one question; it should be a good one. It needs to be something I really wanted to know, or needed to know. Need. “Do you think lust is a bad emotion?” I think I surprised him, that or confused him. He struggled to find an answer, not really saying anything. “Never mind, it doesn’t matter.” I turned around but he grabbed my arm and forced me to face him. But, he was just at the other end of the hallway, you can’t move than quickly. “You're not normal, are you?” He shook his head but didn’t say anything. “What are you then?”  
“You asked three questions.”  
“Winter. I’m trying to be serious here. Why do you always do that? You don’t like to talk about yourself, you just change the subject.”  
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” he said, referring to my other question.  
“I think I would, so just tell me. The worst that could happen is I laugh at you, not that bad. I probably won’t though, that’s a bonus, so tell me.” He didn’t say anything, instead he studied my face for a while, I don’t know why. He reminded me of his dad, focused, searching, for what, I'm not sure of. Cyan was probably taking note to every flaw I had, but Winter, I didn’t know what he was looking for.  
“You know already.” I didn’t know, I had a guess. Guesstimate? Whatever. It is not official, pretty sure I am right, but I wanted to know for sure.  
“I think I know, I mean, I don’t know for sure, but I think.”  
“What do you think?”  
“I think… you are one of those things with fangs that go around at night, sucking people blood and turning into bats.” The actual term for that, I did not want to say.  
“So you think I am a vampire?” I glanced around the hallway and nodded. “Clever, clever boy.”  
“Wait. You are? Seriously? Like, for real?”  
“Yes.”  
“Winter, do not even joke with me right now, this is serious. Are you or not?”  
“Yes,” he repeated.  
“What? Really? This isn’t happening… This ca not be happening. No, you can’t be. They’re just made up creatures. You know, imagined.”  
“I guess I am just a figment of your imagination then.” I wasn’t convinced. I should be convinced, because of the whole not a dream scene, but I wasn’t.  
“Open your mouth.” I stepped closer to him, but he stood there, confused. “I am serious, Winter, open your mouth.” He didn’t do anything. “Open your mouth or I will force you to.” He said something but I didn’t hear, I was too concerned about his teeth to care. “What?” I payed some attention but kept my eyes on his mouth.  
“I said, you are not very threatening.”  
“Well then it is your fault I don’t believe you! I don’t understand why you can’t just open your mouth.” He sighed, like a mother, yes a mother. One of those sighs your mom does when she gives in and you get what you wanted. Anyways, he opened his mouth.  
I stood on my toes and inspected everywhere very carefully. Sure enough, there were two fangs, right there, right in front of me. Side note, his teeth were really white, his breath smelt like mint and the inside of peoples’ mouths look really weird. But back to his fangs, he had fangs! Really sharp looking, really real looking. Sharp. How sharp? “Ow! What the hell? Winter!”  
“I bet you regret that now, right? My last name is Sharpe for a reason, you know.”


	13. Chapter 13

I went to the bathroom, got my hand all fixed up and Winter was fine. Now we were in his office again. I was asking him a lot more questions and it was apparent that he was not very thrilled to be answering them. I need to know these things, though! Wouldn’t you have a lot of questions if you met a vampire? See, that is exactly what I thought. “Does sunlight really burn you? Can you go out during the day? Can you actually turn into a bat? Why does-—” “Okay," he interrupted. "Your first question.” Walking over to side of the room, he pulled the large and heavy looking curtain back. “Sunlight,” he declared, gesturing dramatically to the window. “It does not burn.”  
“Why are all the lights always off then, and the curtains always closed? Hm? Explain that.”  
“Although it doesn’t burn and I do not melt like some wicked witch of the west, it still hurts. My eyes, and my skin, are sensitive to it, so I avoid it as much as possible. Also, I just like the dark, is that such a crime?”  
“Aw, Winter’s sensitive.”  
“Second question,” he continued, completely ignoring me. “I guess that is already kind of answered. Yeah, I can go out during the day, I just don’t. And your last question, about me somehow being able to transform my body, skeleton, muscles and organs, into an animal, yeah, not possible.”  
“You have some sort of super speed though, right?”  
“I suppose so.”  
“And you can read minds?” He nodded. “Prove it.”  
“It is always about proving myself to you. Personally, I do not think I have to prove anything.”  
“I'm thinking of a number…” I said in a singsong voice.  
“You're wasting your time.” He sang back.  
“So you can’t do it,” I stated. “Wow, that is disappointing.”  
“I never said that. I just do not think it is very worthwhile to prove something that is already true.” I stared at him, arms crossed, not moving. “And, now you are being stubborn again.” Damn straight I am. “Six,” he said flatly.  
“Lucky,” I muttered, believing him anyways. “What about your eyes?” I asked.  
“I was born with them, the same as you and your green ones.”  
“What about them changing. They were entirely black before.”  
“Before, like when you were bleeding?” I nodded. “Yeah, they do that.”  
“Why, though?”  
“Because you were bleeding," he said like it was something everyone already knew. "Blood is an obsession to me as much as it is a necessity. Think of it this way, you love making smart ass comments, right?” I nodded again. “And whatever chance you get to make one, you are going to take it. That’s like me, whatever chance I have to get blood, I'm going to take it. Simple, yes?”  
“I—I guess so… but that means you could snap at any time.”  
“I've learned to control it.” Not very well, obviously. “What do you mean by that?” Well, I'm never going to be able to think without him listening to everything.  
“You act like you don’t remember.”  
“Don’t remember what?”  
“You know, when you first started acting all crazy. I asked you if you were alright, you said yes, blah, blah, blah, you ended up biting me and… yeah. That’s it.” He thought, and thought, but didn’t seem to remember.  
“Wait here.” He left the room and shut the door. I sat patiently in the same spot, waiting, listening. He was talking to someone, the conversation sounded kind of one-sided though, so I assumed he was on the phone.  
“—yes, it’s likely that you won’t remember something like that.” He entered the room again; cellphone on speaker, listening to who I assumed was his dad. “Being hungry is equivalent to humans being completely intoxicated. Your actions are extremely difficult to control, if you can control them, the longer you wait, the hungrier you’ll become. It’s also common to accidentally control a nearby human.”  
“Control,” he repeated.  
“You’ve already got those telepathic traits, am I right?”  
“Yeah, so?”  
“You can do much more than just listen, Winter. You can take over, manipulate.” I don't know, but it sounded like his dad was real happy with that fact.  
“So, I can make them think things, get them to feel emotions.”  
“Physically as well. That probably won’t happen for a couple of months though. You tell me if it happens any earlier, other than that I don’t want any more calls disrupting prime business hours. Understood?”  
“Yes,” he answered a lot quieter, and then hung up. “Lust,” he whispered. “Emotion. That’s your answer.”  
“What? You got hungry, lost control, started manipulating me, and now you don’t remember any of it?”  
“Exactly that.”  
“Interesting…” I definitely didn’t want that happening to me ever again, ever. He is going to have to find some way to control himself, and soon, or there is going to be a real unhappy Charlie. “How old are you, Winter?” I asked as the question came to mind.  
“Seventeen.”  
“That’s young.” I both mocked his dad and prompted a different answer at the same time.  
“Is that a bad thing?”  
“Well, no. It’s just, people say vampires can live forever and never age. You could be, like, a thousand years old, just stuck looking seventeen and lying to me.”  
“Smart.” So he was lying. “How does it feel to kiss a thousand year old man?” Oh, god, I think I almost threw up. He laughed as I rubbed my tongue on my shirt, trying to dispose of whatever may be left over from that kiss. “Charlie, calm down, I was kidding. I'm seventeen; I wasn’t lying when I said that.” I glared at him and fell back on the bed. “I'm not that big of a pervert.”  
“So… are you going to stay seventeen forever?”  
“Most likely, yes. I just turned recently, so I might continue to age slowly, normally for the next couple months until it stops all together.” The confused expression on my face told him to explain. “Bloodline,” he said. “All of my family are vampires, I didn’t have to be bitten, it just happened. It’s like a gene."  
"Oh," I said, understanding. “What kind of business do you do?” He tensed. That was a touchy subject, I'm guessing. “You don’t have to answer that,” I added quickly.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to cori and jordan for editing aha ily


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